


fake empire

by liesmith



Category: Cow Chop
Genre: M/M, and also like mild gay panic for james but it chill, semi public dirty stuff, sending nudes like dumb kids, why do i evne make extra tags. get surprised yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 20:22:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11928558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmith/pseuds/liesmith
Summary: ok, it was james' fault for using snapchat for flirting, but stillorjames accidentally sends brett a flirty selfie and has a gay panic





	fake empire

It was 100% a goddamn accident.

He always felt so dumb taking selfies like this anyways, but the girl he had been flirting with for a week now was waiting for a response to her snap, and, well, what better than looking good after the gym? Not that James exactly knew what a good post-workout look was, but surely being a kinda sweaty and flexing was good. And yeah, taking it from the side to show off his chest, tank top just loose enough, that was… flirty, right? James just gave an awkward half grin in the photo, flexing with his free arm.

And of course he fat fingers it when he sends it to her, and it’s way too late to take it back as the picture zips off into digital lands, sent to her, and sent to fucking Brett.

Of all fucking people. Of course he manages to send a flirty picture to his goddamn _boss_.

He doesn’t even have time to text Brett, explain the situation, because Brett looks at it immediately. Oh, _fuck_.

James is standing there in his apartment, staring down at his phone, and feels his heart catch in his throat when Brett responds to his selfie. Hopefully it’s just a joke, but when he opens it, James’ heart has ceased beating for eternity.

Brett’s sitting somewhere outside, a leg crossed over the other, and has his shirt rucked up just so over his stomach, showing off. James never really had such a great, ten second look at Brett’s body, and then the pictures gone. Fuck. James’ throat feels dry and he swallows in attempts to help, tossing his phone onto his couch, startling Ein from her sleep. That wasn’t what he expected at all; was Brett just teasing him, or something? Was he… flirting?

The possibility, however minor it is, makes his head hurt, so James decides to try and not have a huge meltdown over this. Instead, he tries to focus on everything else. Pets Ein. Eats a snack. Drinks some water. Takes Ein for a walk, even though she’s not having it in the heat, and they return back to the cool air of the apartment fifteen minutes later. Decides it’s time to shower to really rub the grime of the gym off instead of just the quick rinse in the showers there. Glances at his phone. The girl’s responded to his snap, but he’s too busy trying to find Brett’s name in any of the notifications. Nothing… must have been a fluke. An accident. James decides that he’ll just talk to Brett tomorrow when they’re at work, explain everything, they’ll tease him for a couple of days and then it’ll be done.

Except… clean and dried and in comfortable sweats, James’ hand creeps to his phone. Still nothing from Brett, but it doesn’t stop James from giving a small smile as he takes the picture, hair wet and over one shoulder and shirtless, sweatpants hung low on his hips. He sends it to Brett, on purpose this time, and tries to ignore the hammering in his chest. This is a terribly dangerous game he’s playing and there’s no way he’s going to win, or even get close to it.

Brett looks and responds in what James feels has to be only a nano second. The picture is of Brett, taken over his shoulder, in the mirror of his own bathroom, and he’s naked. Oh, shit. Any anxiety he has dissipates and his dick takes over thinking. Fuck. Brett’s really, unbelievably, hot. He sets his phone face down on his bed and covers his face with his hands. This is just so… so bad. He’s gonna get fired tomorrow, James can feel it, and then who will be part of Cow Chop? Trevor? Fuck that. Trevor’s too young and stupid. James has to just quit it now, cold turkey, and pretend he’s not harboring a chub over his bosses perfect ass.

He settles, surprisingly, very easy into the routine for the night. One final walk for Ein in the evening, now that it’s not boiling hot and only muggy and humid, and she makes it twenty minutes before giving up and staring at him with those big and sad dumb eyes. James carries her back home, thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Half-assed dinner happens as he watches television, hand on Ein’s chest as he just kind of… rolls her back and forth as he eats. She’s enjoying it, at least. James can tell by the snoring.

Clean up happens when he’s done completely vegging out, leaving Ein to dominate the couch. There’s nothing new from Brett and James isn’t sure if he relieved or not as he walks to his spare room, sitting down at his desk. He works for all of two minutes, which gets him to starting Steam up and then a game before James brain helpfully supplies him with the fact he has to respond next. That’s how this whole thing goes, the back and forth of the most dangerous game in the world. Fuck. James glances at his phone for the millionth time that night. Still nothing. Shit.

He tries to focus on getting out decent footage, though that’s not hard with this game. It’s a trainwreck, and, God, he hates Rachel Amber. At least he can go to bed feeling like he got something done, but once he drags himself to his room, his brain is nagging harder about the fact he still has to respond. Can’t leave Brett with a cold shoulder. Or blue balls, or whatever. James flopped face down onto his bed first, groaning muffled. He has nobody to blame but himself, but God, he really wishes he could blame Brett.

Instead, he rolls over and lays on his back, scooting up towards his pillows and settling back against them. With all the shyness in the world sitting in him, James wiggles his sweats down just a little and slides a hand down his briefs, hand curling just slight around himself. His room’s dark enough that he’s feeling somewhat confident in taking this, but still light enough, because it’s fucking California, that he’s not entirely cucking Brett with this.

He takes it before his anxiety wins in the ongoing battle for his mental state, and James clicks Brett’s little icon and lets his dick disappear off into digital land. He rolls onto his side and tries not to have an outright heart attack when Brett looks at it again within seconds.

There’s no rapid response, no picture, no text, nothing, like before and James feels mildly sad about that. Instead, he tries to settle down for the night. He still has work tomorrow, after all. He’s almost out of it when he hears his phone ding, and James knows he should ignore it, but what if it’s important? It’s not, when he realizes it’s a snapchat from Brett, but he’s opening it before he can stop himself.

Instead of just a picture, this one’s a video. Brett’s barely audible, but James can tell he’s panting, and his hands wrapped around his dick, and then the video cuts. Fuck. He can at least replay it and on his second viewing, the video just goes straight to his dick. James drops his phone back onto his bed, feeling mildly frustrated Brett’s cheating like this. Is is even cheating? It’s just the natural progression of this, right?

Still… James squirms a little, rolls onto his side and gets comfortable under his blanket, hand reaching down to palm at himself through his sweats. He’s only half hard, but it’s maddeningly easy to just close his eyes and picture Brett, especially with the video now burning a hole in his mind. Hands creep past the waistband of his sweats, past the waistband of his briefs, and curls around himself, thumbing over the tip of his dick. Shit… James exhales out, hiding his face in his arm as he starts jerking himself, thighs spreading. It’s not hard to envision what tomorrow might bring, face to face after all this, but all James knows, right now in this moment, is that he just really wants Brett, and to touch Brett, and, yeah, he kind of wants to see Brett in other situations, too. But that’s still his dick talking.

It doesn’t take long to stroke himself, albeit a little impatiently, until he’s fully hard. James rolls a little more onto his stomach, burying a face into the crook of his arm. He feels a little like a teenager again, humping into his loose fist like this, but it feels fucking amazing, his body a livewire as he thinks about Brett, eyes screwed shut as he pants against his arm, thinking about the lines of the man’s body, the fact Brett maybe, possibly, yes, wants him in this sort of way, if the flirting has anything to say about it. It’s enough to drive him over the edge a lot sooner than usual, but he doesn’t care, shuddering and coming into his loose fist, whimpering soft against his skin.

He feels boneless and has just enough in him to go clean up, feeling only mildly embarrassed as he crawls back into bed, burrowing his face into his pillow, arms tucked under it. Fuck. What the hell was he gonna do tomorrow?

Die, probably. 

* * *

 

He wakes not to his alarm, but to Ein snoring in his ear, and James, in his morning fog, wonders how she got up here. Stubby legs… maybe he picked her up. Instead, he just yawns and drags her in close for cuddles, nosing against the top of her head. At least she wasn’t confusing and weird, she was just… a dumb dog. Man, he loved her. James flinched as his alarm does go off ten minutes later, startling him back awake and making Ein lose her shit, flopping around like a fish out of water.

“Fuck! You… dumb sausage, settle down,” James grunted, letting go of Ein and watching her nearly full-speed sprint off the bed. Fucking idiot. He ran a hand through his hair, giving a minor wince as his finger snagged on a knot. Dammit. He climbed off the bed, stretching and rolling his shoulders, rubbing his nose as he made his way to the bathroom. Morning routine followed and he stepped out of the bathroom, smoothing back a stray curl that didn’t quite get into the bun, and then his brain helpfully supplied him of the events of yesterday, and…

Well, it didn’t feel great having his blood go cold, but James just tried to power through breakfast, sadly making himself eggs and… sure, Ein didn’t _need_ it, but she was cute, so he scrambled her up a little and let her eat that for breakfast. A quick walk around the block and James was squishing her face and kissing her goodbye, promising his return, if Brett didn’t fucking destroy him today. Hopefully Aleks would take her if he did die; Ein loved her girlfriend, after all.  
And, of course, the traffic doesn’t go as slow as James hoped. There’s almost virtually none and James arrives at work… way too fucking early. Brett’s already here, of course. Goodie two shoes fucking boss man. He sits in his car, staring sadly at his dashboard, then at his coffee besides him, and… God, he’s gotta face the facts. When he climbs out, he notices Lindsey’s car. Well, at least he won’t be entirely alone if shit goes sour. Lindsey would save him… or he hoped she would.

James unlocks the door and steps inside, taking a sad sip of his coffee before cautiously making his way to Brett’s office, nudging past the hung flag. Brett’s already sat behind his computer, dark circles under his eyes, and a Redbull in his hand. Shit. James clears his throat and Brett glances up from reading something, squinting at James as if he can’t focus on the man.

“Morning.”

“Hey,” Brett sets the can down, leaning back in his chair, arms behind his head as he looks James over, “you cool?”

James knows exactly what he means by that question and looks down at his coffee, feeling heat creep to his face. Shit.

“Uh,” He starts, realizing quickly he wasn’t quite prepared to discuss it right now at fuck am, “... lunch?”

“Lunch,” Brett yawns against his shoulder, giving James a small thumbs up, “don’t flake on me. You fucks love ordering in.”

“It’s convenient,” James mumbles, scowling to himself as he walks through Brett’s office, deciding to not go around. Communal space now, right? “don’t be an ass.”

“I’ll try not too, hunny.”

The nickname is sarcastic, but James still feels a minor skip of his heart. Fuck. Asshole. He just decides to settle in at his desk after bothering Lindsey, hanging around her and poking at her monitor a couple of times until she gets annoyed enough to smack James’ hand away, making him laugh and settle in at his desk.

It takes the rest of the hour but the rest of them all shamble in and eventually the warehouse falls from it’s silence into a comfortable chatter before James finally drags himself away to the couch, his poor ruined investment, and starts the day for real with Aleks.

 

* * *

 

When lunch rolls around, Brett’s standing at his office door, jacket on and adjusting his hat with one hand as the other taps at his phone as he makes eye contact with James, who at the moment, has Trevor in a headlock, yelling in that screechy way about some sort of camera issue. James does happen to drop Trevor in almost an instant when Brett’s brow cocks at him, and he shoves the younger man hard.

“You better fix it! If it’s still broken when I come back from lunch, I’m gonna fucking kill you, Trevor!”

“It’s Aleks’ fault!” Trevor tries, mildly helpless as he stares at the camera in his hands. It’s one of the older ones, thank God for that, or else Brett would for real kill them, but still. It’s a camera! James wags his finger in Trevor’s direction, walking towards Brett and following him through his office and out the door.

There’s no question in whose car they take and James buckles up comfortably in the shitty square, leaning back and glancing at Brett for a moment, whose just concentrating on backing up and pulling out without killing them.

He speaks first, which makes James’ anxiety break, just slightly.

“So, you’re cute.”

James preens at that despite his mood, unable to help himself from smoothing his hair back, looking at Brett. “Yeah, thanks. But, honestly… what the hell, man?”

“You, technically, started it. By mistake, but I threw a hook out. You took it, so I guess… it’s whatever you want it to be. I’m fine if you want it to end, but I can’t say I won’t be a little disappointed. You are… pretty attractive, James.”

Brett’s just pushing his buttons now, but James can’t help it. Man, he _is_ fucking cute. Feels nice to be appreciated like that, though. Boosts his ego, makes him feel a good kind of fuzzy. “... I’ve never really done anything like this before.”

“I’m not asking you to sit and spin on it, you know. We can just… occasionally hang out.”

“Hang out.”

“Well, hunny, if you’re lucky, I’ll let you sit and spin on it.”

James frowns, mumbling a soft ‘ew’ under his breath and glancing out the window, arms crossing over his chest. “So now what?”

“You want to eat, or do you wanna fool around?”

He looks back at Brett, surprised just a little, and then… “Yeah, sure. We can fool around.”

“Man, you’re easy,” Brett laughs, glancing at James during a red light, brow raised and giving a grin. He doesn’t say anything else, but pulls down a side street, and James realizes… they’re going somewhere less quiet, less busy, but fuck if he knows where those places are in L.A..

Brett does, though. Of course he does. When they pull into a shaded parking lot, park beneath a large tree in a dead shopping mall center, James feels nervous. Brett looks way too collected, moving his seat back just a little and turning in it to look at James, and he… sighs. The fuck?

“You look like you’re gonna die on me,” Brett starts, reaching over to lay a hand on James’ thigh, giving a small squeeze, “just breath. We don’t have to do anything at all.”

James shifted a little, turning towards Brett too, realizing how quickly the small space between them was becoming even less. “I… do, wanna do something. Last night, after the… uh, video you sent me, I… shit, this is stupid to say out loud, you know?”

Brett laughs and pats James’ thigh, maybe more aggressively than he intends. “Yeah, I get the idea, don’t worry your pretty little head. C’mere,” He murmurs, leaning back into his seat and gesturing at James, who looks around for a moment, as if they’re gonna get caught, and unbuckles his seatbelt. Takes some shifting and trying not to knee each other in the dicks, but James settles on top of Brett, leaning over him and hips pressed flushed, and, oh yeah, he can feel that Brett’s just a little hard like this, and sure, it goes straight to his own dick.

“... You’re hard,” And when he says it, James knows it’s the stupidest thing to say, especially when Brett laughs, but he’s so far out of his element that he doesn’t care too much.

“That happens. You want me to call you pretty again? That probably made you hard.”

“Fuck off,” James grunts, but it’s not like Brett’s wrong. It wasn’t the only thing that made him hard, but still. He can’t deny the attention. He at least knew what to do here, hips grinding against Brett’s, which makes the man gasp in surprise and lid his eyes, hands moving to curl around James’ thighs, digging into the denim just so.

“Atta boy,” Brett murmurs, voice low as he pushes his own hips up, grinding against James, “how’d you do it, last night?”

James looks confused for a moment before it hits him and he flushes, his own hands dropping to Brett’s stomach, trying to find some sort of leverage. “... Rolled over, fucked my fist. Felt good. Thought about you.”

“Hope so,” Brett’s taking his time to undo James’ jeans, hands folding them down and teasing along the waistband of his briefs, fingers just teasing underneath, warm and gentle, and James’ mind goes absolutely blank at the feeling. Goosebumps rise up on his skin and he whines, low and short, but enough that Brett takes it and wastes no time, a warm hand curling just soft around James, loose enough that James wants, _needs_ more, and he tries a tentative thrust.

Brett exhales, low and pleased, and he squeezes James soft. “Hold on a second,” He pulls away from James and tries to adjust his seat a little more, managing to get James just a smidgen more room, and reaches down to undo his own jeans. James never really thought about it, but the stupid black ones look so good on him, and he takes no time in smacking Brett’s hands out of the way, finishing the zipper and pushing them down, maybe too eagerly, as far as they can go. He gets the idea pretty well on his own, pressing himself against Brett, and feeling flush creep further onto his cheeks.

They’re not that different in size, but Brett’s a little thicker, and James can’t help but think of it in other things besides just his hand. Fuck. Brett’s not paying attention, thank God, but is instead wrapping a hand around them both where James is hesitating, squeezing them both.

“You good?” He’s already breathless. That’s nothing new; James has watched Brett walk an inch and get out of breath.

“Thinking,” James answers, honest, leaning back a little against the wheel, careful of his hands and the horn, letting his hips rock just so, “about… you.”

“God, I hope so,” Brett sighs out, dramatic, and the tension in James dissipates like it was never there. He just glares, though it’s lackluster, especially with Brett’s fist loose enough around them both, encouraging him to thrust, and… James takes the opportunity like he’ll never get this chance again, eyes lidding and then falling shut as he rolls into the heat, a hand curled against Brett’s stomach and the other against the roof of the car, as if it’ll give him any leverage at all.

“Fuck,” James swears, wetting his bottom lip, hand rucking Brett’s shirt up a little, fingers splaying against his stomach, “you… oh, fuck, Brett…”

Brett laughs, breathy and soft under him, one hand curled around James’ thigh and squeezing, blunt nails scratching just a little at the skin. Makes James’ jolt, goosebumps rising over his skin. “G… Good boy, James, fuck… you look good.”

Each word, accompanied by that low voice, however breathless it is, makes James’ cock twitch and leak, dripping between them. Fuck…. his head feels so dizzy, but he doesn’t want it to stop. Brett must be able to tell, because he gets just a little aggressive, hand traveling from James’ thigh to his hair, fingers finding purchase in the smoothed back curls and pulling James down, leaning up to just barely touch their lips.

It’s just slightly maddening, and James gasps out, comes right then in surprise, hips stuttering and grinding up against Brett. He feels Brett laugh against his mouth, and then they’re kissing, and fuck, it feels amazing, because Brett’s all teeth and biting, and James feels the man shudder beneath, feels the sudden rock of Brett’s hips, and… James slumps, boneless like last night, following after Brett’s mouth when they break.

“Easy, tiger,” Brett murmurs, laying a hand on James’ stomach, pushing him back just slightly, “you… gotta let me change my shirt, I’m a fucking mess.”

James glances down between them and feels only slightly bad when he realizes Brett is covered in both of their cum, and realizes, the tiny bit that’s hit his lower stomach looks… fucking good. James gives a half-hearted twitch, like he’s gonna get hard again and start this all over, but he takes the mental picture and makes a mental note to get more later, because… no way is Brett gonna get rid of him, now.

Reluctantly though, he climbs off, tucks himself away and zips his jeans back up. Brett’s pulling his shirt off, balling it up and tossing it onto the floor, and reaches behind him to dig in a bag. He retrieves a tank top and pulls it on, smoothing the fabric down and glancing at James, who just gives a grin.

“Dude. How’re you gonna explain a shirt change?”

“Some shithead spilt something sticky on me,” Brett murmurs and that shuts James right up, but he’s still grinning, trying to hide soft giggles behind his hand, “a shithead whose hair isn’t as neat as it was before, might I add.”

James frowns for a moment before pulling down the driver’s side sun visor, flipping the mirror open and groaning. “Fuck! Dude, really?”

“Couldn’t help myself.”

“You know who else uses that excuse? Aleks, when he sets things on fire.”

“Ah, well. You know. Easiest one in the book.”

James just scowls as he tries to smooth and tuck back stray curls, making it just mildly more presentable, but nothing like how it looked. He leans back, scrubbing his hands over his face and looking back at Brett, dragging his fingers down his cheeks for a moment.

“What do we do now?”

“That depends. Do you want more?”

James thinks for a nanosecond before nodding. “Yes.”

“Then we just do stuff sometimes. I’m not ten states away anymore, I’m right here. You can call me up anytime.”

That’s… kind of intoxicating, in a weird way. James just nods, settling into the driver’s side, watching as Brett messes with his chair and starts the car back up.

The drive back is quiet, though James keeps his hand on Brett’s thigh the whole time. He can’t help himself and Brett isn’t complaining, anyways. They part ways at the warehouse, though Brett does give his ass a smack and James glowers, swatting his hands away as they step back into the air condition of the warehouse. 

* * *

 

Brett sends a snap that night. James knows better, but he still opens it. It’s not really a game anymore, not like it was last night, but James still wants to win it, and no way will he let Brett one-up him in anything.

**Author's Note:**

> hundarnova for the hundarnova gods. i wanted bois sending each other nudes and needed more hundarnova content so here i am with. the hundarnova content.


End file.
